


Heat

by jinkieswouldyoulookatthis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Female reader insert, Fingering, Possessiveness, Possible non-con, Strong Language, a/b/o inspired but not actually a/b/o, lust spell trope, mention of masturbation, slight smut with strong suggestive smuttiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 00:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9408686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkieswouldyoulookatthis/pseuds/jinkieswouldyoulookatthis
Summary: Sam and Dean help you deal with the after effects of a lust potion.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to AnotherWinchesterFangirl for beta'ing this for me and fixing my grammar goofs! Also for the amazingly wonderful comments and feedback!

Was it getting hot in here?

You squirmed in your seat, again, and uncrossed your legs, which was no help. You crossed your legs the other way. No good. Your skin felt flushed and tight, almost sunburnt, and you kept taking in deep breaths of air, trying to cool down. Every time you exhaled, it felt like you were breathing out steam. It was definitely getting incredibly, uncomfortably warm in here. Without thinking, you squeezed your legs together, tightly, but that just made it worse. Your tongue darted out and wet your lips before your teeth caught the lower one and bit down, not quite gently, on it. You sat forward, leaning an elbow on the table. Your other hand shoved between your knees, thumb rubbing back and forth against your denim-clad leg. You sat back, uncrossed and recrossed your legs, your hand now squeezing your kneecap. A deep breath in and out and you were leaning forward again. Your thighs clenched. You licked your lips again. It was hot, you were hot, and it only seemed to be getting hotter.

"Here." Sam suddenly towered next to you, offering a steaming mug of minty smelling tea. "This might help settle your nerves."

You took the mug and absentmindedly blew on the contents. The heat seeped from the ceramic into your hands and straight to your cheeks.

"How're you holding up?" he asked, full of concern, as he sat across from you at the tiny motel room table.

Your face was burning and the flush was spreading down across your chest, wet heat flaring between your legs at the subtle vibration of his voice.

"Not, uh...not good." You started rocking slightly against the seat of your chair and set the mug down. "I need, um..." You rubbed your face, covering your eyes. "Uh..." You knew exactly what you needed, or at least, what your body thought it needed but you wouldn’t, you couldn’t, say it. Your breathing was becoming labored and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't sit still.

"Hey?" Sam reached across and touched your arm. His hand was warm through your shirt, warm and large. God how had you never realized how big his hands were before? And strong? You could feel the strength even as it just rested gently against you. Your eyes drooped closed as you let out a long, low breath. Your cheeks were on fire. Swallowing thickly you sat back, pulling away from his touch, even though every fiber of your being was screaming for you to do the opposite.

"Don't," you rasped, not sure if you were talking to him or yourself.

"Sorry," he said quickly as he pulled his hand back.

You shook your head and shifted your legs. "I just... I, uh... I need..." You licked your lips, looked at Sam as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear and settled that big, strong hand on his thigh. You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes. An intoxicating, musky scent was suddenly everywhere and you knew, you just knew, that it was coming from him. It was palpable, you could practically taste it, and it seemed to roll off him in waves as he moved. You felt saturated with it.

"I don't know how much longer I can... you..." You swallowed down the rest of that thought and tried, instead, to change gears. "Where is he?"

"I'll check," he said as he fished his phone out of his pocket and quickly typed out a text. You watched his fingers, imagining them touching you with the same deftness. He glanced up at you, his eyes flicking to your mouth before looking back down at the screen. You realized you'd been rubbing your mouth, tracing a fingertip across your bottom lip, brushing lightly against your teeth.

You finally had to sit on your hands to stop them from making everything worse. Although how things could get worse you weren't sure. You couldn't remember ever being this aroused before, not even during sex. You felt like you were on fire and drowning all at once. You wanted to cling to him. Climb right into his lap and... 

You barely stopped the moan that came on the heels of that image. When you crossed your legs for the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes you could smell your own desire. Your panties were soaked through to your jeans. Embarrassed, you curled in on yourself, resting your head on your arms. Things had managed to get worse. Now your scent was mingling with Sam's, and all you wanted was for him to fuck you right there against that crappy, little motel room table, one broad hand pressed between your shoulders, fingers just curling around the base of your neck, as he pounded into you from behind, hard thrusts filling you and pushing you forward.

His phone dinged. When he moved to pick it up a fresh wave of scent hit you. You were breathing through your mouth, your tongue wetting and rewetting your lips. Without looking up you pictured him holding the phone, how it would seem like a toy in his hand. And you wondered how those long, dexterous fingers that could cover so much skin would feel. Just one of his hands could pin both of yours easily behind your back as the other pressed three fingers up into your wet core, filling and stretching... 

This time you couldn't suppress the moan.

"Hang in there. He's on his way back now."

You sat up, pressed your thighs together and ground down on the chair just a little. In the corner of your eye you saw Sam clench his jaw and heard him swallow. His knee was bouncing. You saw him wipe his palm against the top of his leg, the nervous gesture drew your gaze up his leg to his crotch. He cleared his throat and you looked up. His nostrils were flaring as he breathed deep and fast, an aggressive, predatory look darkening his eyes.

"Sam?" you quietly pleaded, your voice trembling, betraying the extreme force of will it was taking to keep you in your chair.

***

When Dean pulled the Impala into the empty space in front of room 9 the headlights flooded the walkway and revealed Sam sitting, legs drawn up with his arms across his knees, back against the door. Although he shielded his eyes from the glare with one hand, he didn't otherwise move. Dean turned off the lights and the engine, grabbed a paper bag from the passenger seat, and got out with the all too familiar screech and bang of the car door.

"You alright there, Sammy?"

"Not really, no," Sam said, his voice quiet and rough. 

Dean looked from his brother to the door behind him. "How's Y/N?"

"Worse."

"And you left her alone?" He reached a hand down to Sam.

"It seemed safest," Sam said as he let Dean pull him up.

"Things got that bad, huh?"

Sam wouldn’t look at him. "Just tell me you got an antidote."

"All taken care of," Dean said, raising the paper bag. "Let's get this over with." He reached for the doorknob, but Sam's hand gripped his, stopping him.

"I had to tie her up."

"Ok. Wait, really?"

"Yeah. It was the only way to keep her from, um,” Sam swallowed and looked away before finishing, “to keep her off of me."

"Sam, you stud!" Dean joked but he watched his brother, taking in his body language, replaying everything since he’d pulled up and the little kernel of concern that had been sitting in his gut since they had figured out something was wrong suddenly grew. "It got that serious, huh?"

Sam nodded slowly. "You need to know that the potion has other, um, side effects?"

"Other than her trying to get in your pants?"

Sam still hadn’t let go of Dean's hand, his grip was almost crushing.

"It, I… I had to come outside.” He finally met Dean’s gaze, his eyes conveying the full conviction of his words. “I had to."

"Ok.” Dean looked at the door and back at his brother. “Well, the sooner we get her to drink this the sooner the effects wear off, right?"

Sam shrugged.

"So you wanna hold hands as we go in or are you gonna let go?"

Reluctantly, Sam released Dean's hand and took a few deep breaths. Dean turned the knob and pushed the door open.

***

The room was mostly dark, except for the light that came in through the cracks around the curtains and the glow of the alarm clock, so when the door opened, even though the outside lights weren't very bright, you blinked a few times as your eyes adjusted. You could see Dean's silhouette in the doorway and Sam standing just behind him.

"Dean." You gasped his name, the fire between your legs flaring up again as a night breeze wafted his scent into the room. You groaned and pressed your legs together, desperate for some friction. Sam had tied your arms to the chair behind your back, but had left your legs free. From the way he'd looked at that point, you weren't sure if he would have been able to stop himself if he hadn't gone outside as soon as he'd secured your arms.

Dean took a step inside and then his eyes went wide. "Whoa! Shit. It reeks of sex in here." He looked back at Sam who had a hand braced against each side of the doorway like he was trying to stop himself from crossing the threshold. "You sure nothing happened you want to tell me about?"

Sam just nodded in your direction. "It's her. It's coming from her." He was breathing through his mouth.

You squirmed again, this time spreading your legs wide and straddling the chair. "Sam, please. I..."

"Give her the antidote, Dean. Now." There was a hard tone to Sam's voice, one that left no room for argument.

Dean pulled a plastic bottle out of the paper bag and unscrewed the cap.

All you could focus on was the aching emptiness in your core, the deep needy longing to be filled. Their smells, always so similar, and now all mixed up with yours, were overpowering what little willpower you had left. "Sam? Dean? I want you both so bad. I need you, both. Please," you gasped, "please fuck me, please. Please, I need you. I need you both inside me."

Sam made a choking, growling sound as he pushed himself back further from the doorway, but Dean took a step towards you. "You're going to be ok, we'll get you through this." And that deep, whiskey-rough voice of his rumbled through you right to your clit.

"Fuck me, Dean, please? I'm so wet. I'm soaked. And I want you, I've always wanted you. Dreamed about you. Touched myself thinking about you. Please, touch me? I'll be good...so good. Please." You were writhing against the chair, opening your legs for him, but then closing them again seeking pressure and the release you desperately hoped it would bring.

"Son of a bitch," was all he said as he crossed the remaining distance and held the bottle to your lips. You were so hot, so thirsty, that you eagerly drank as he upended the contents into your mouth. Even after the bottle was empty, he held it there, transfixed by the sight of you licking at the last drops. You smelled a shift in his scent and looked up at him. He stood, rigid, above you, just out of reach, but still so close.

"You want me too, Dean," you purred quietly. "I know you do. I've caught you looking at me and… and I bet you've jerked off thinking about what my pussy would feel like around your cock, how hot and wet and tight I'd be. I'm so wet, Dean. I'm burning up for you."

"Dean." Sam's voice was a stern warning, but you had Dean's full attention.

"I'm yours, Dean." Saying his name seemed to pull him a little closer each time. "Fuck me, Dean, make me yours." He was so close it was becoming impossible to finish a thought more complicated than, "I need you, please." You swore you could actually smell pre-come and you moaned, almost crying, you needed him to touch you more than anything. He dropped the bottle and reached for you. You could feel the delicious heat from his fingertips, so close to your cheek, you were half convinced you would come as soon as he touched you. You closed your eyes.

But before his hand reached you there was a scuffle, and you heard Sam, angry and loud and much closer than before, "DEAN! NO!"

Your eyes flew open as Sam pulled his brother out of the room and slammed the door.

***

"Get off me! SAM! Let go!" Dean shouted as best he could with his face pressed into the hood of his car. His arms were pinned to his back by his little brother's gargantuan hands. Both men were breathing heavy, taking in the cool, clear night air, slowly regaining control.

"Stay away from her," Sam growled. He released his grip on Dean's arms and stepped back, sank down in front of the door again. Dean pushed himself up and off the hood, rubbing at his left wrist where Sam had twisted it a little past comfortable. He turned and looked at the door, looked at his brother, winded like a thoroughbred after a hard race, and sat back against the Impala, his hands on his knees.

"Holy shit." Dean shook his head. "I mean, wow. That?" He pointed at the door. "Shit, man! That, why didn't you warn me?"

"I tried," Sam grumbled, still coming down from the effects of being in the room with you.

"Yeah but..." Dean dragged a hand over his face and stood up halfway before sitting back down again. "How long's it been that...intense?"

"Since you texted me to say you were headed back. Her scent in the room, and the way she's talking, moving..." Sam licked his lips, dropping his eyes closed as he swallowed. "When I was tying her up I almost... I, I almost didn't leave." His voice was now so quiet that Dean barely caught what he said, but he understood, all too well.

"I don't know how you did that, because just now, for a moment there, I was gone. That was one hell of a powerful mickey that asshole slipped her. I just hope that antidote works, or else I'm going to have to kill him. Well, I mean, I'm gonna kill him anyway, I just wanted to make sure the antidote worked first."

"Good thinking."

"It happens sometimes." 

They stared at each other for a moment in silence before Dean asked, "So? How long do you think it'll take to work?"

"I don't know."

"Think it's working now?"

"No." Sam said, without pause.

"You seem pretty sure."

"I can still hear her."

"Really?" Dean pushed off the Impala and walked over to the big window next to the door. He leaned an ear towards the glass for a second, listening. He could just make out your voice, plaintive and desperate, half moaning, half whining their names. His eyes went wide and he forced himself to step back and sit down again. "Is she going to be ok?"

"I don't know."

"It's only been a few minutes. It took that potion almost three hours to reach full effectiveness, right?" He looked at Sam, waited for him to nod. "So, we wait. Just wait it out." He looked around, fidgeting. Dean hated waiting. He turned and looked back at the car. "Cooler's still in the car, want a beer?"

"No."

"Well, I'm havin' one."

***

You were burning up in the darkness. Sweat was beaded up all over you, plastering your hair to your forehead and neck, making your shirt cling to your breasts, pressing against your aching nipples. Your bra lay across the room somewhere. You had taken it off and flung it when you had climbed onto Sam's lap. You could still feel the heat from his hands where they had held you as your lips coaxed his open, as your tongue pushed into his mouth, as you ground down against the bulge in his jeans. Seconds later, you'd been tied to the chair in the dark, and Sam was gone, but you could still smell him, still feel him, almost. And now, with the smell of Dean mixed in, you were crying with need, not even able to seek what relief your own fingers might bring.

"Sam! Please..." you sobbed.

The antidote Dean had given you—"Dean..."—was a cool spot in the pit of your stomach, but it didn't seem to be spreading. Instead visions of the Winchesters, towering over you, holding you between them, filling you, made more heat flood out of you. You'd never been this wet in your life. It felt like you'd spilled your mug of tea on your lap—hot, wet, cold around the edges where the air stole the heat away.

"Sam, Dean, please..."

***

"Hey, think this might help?" Dean leaned around the back of the Impala's open trunk, an old fashioned gas mask hanging from his outstretched hand.

"You still have that?"

"Apparently. Wonder if it'll block out enough to let me check on her?"

Sam stood up as Dean shut the trunk and walked around towards the motel room door. "Why you?"

Dean gave him that look, his because-I'm-the-big-brother look, and said, "Because you're still all sweaty."

Sam glared at him and opened his mouth to argue.

"Shut it," Dean snapped. "You've been in there twice already, pulled yourself out. Gotta give you credit for that, but you haven't moved more'n about a foot from the door since I've gotten back. You've still got her scent all over you, man. You're not going in there." He pulled the mask over his head. "Besides, I'm going to need you to get me the hell out of there if this thing doesn't work. Y/N's honor is in your hands, Sasquatch." He fitted the mask down over his face. Sam didn’t move. "It'll be ok, Sammy."

***

The door opened again. Cool air blew in. You were delirious with fever. You knew it was Dean that entered without looking up, just like you knew Sam was standing in the doorway again.

"Y/N?" His voice sounded oddly muffled, but your eyes were focused only as far up as his hips, mesmerized by the way they rolled as he slowly walked towards you. The fire in you hadn't died down, but now there was a cramping ache in your gut that flowed through you with every breath.

"Dean?" Your voice was barely a whisper, your mouth parched. It felt like all the moisture in your body was coating the insides of your thighs.

"Hey, Darlin'. How're you doing?" You felt his fingers on your forehead, then your cheek and the side of your neck, and heat surged through you at the contact. You moaned, a low, wrung out, needy sound that made Dean pull his hand back and Sam tighten his grip on the doorframe. "Shit, Sam. She's burning up. We gotta get her cooled down."

"Dean, please, I need you and Sam to..."

"Shhh, it's ok. I got you. I'm gonna take care of you, okay?" He turned back toward the door. "I've got to untie her and get her in the bathtub. You okay over there? You want me to close the door?"

"No."

Dean squatted down behind you and worked your arms free. Sam intently watched every move, every touch, as his brother massaged your wrists without letting you go. For the first time since he came in you saw that he was wearing a mask. Weakly, you reached up and ran your fingers along the edge where the rubber pressed into his skin, you wanted to see his face, feel his breath on you, his lips.

"Whoa, whoa, the mask stays on, ok? We'll get you cooled down, but you gotta behave." He scooped you up, and for a second, everything was Dean. His strong arms around you, holding you tight and the smell of his neck. It took all of your remaining self control to not rip the mask off his face, instead you nuzzled into his neck, kissing and sucking and licking at him. He turned to walk around the end of the nearest bed, right past the open door, and he jerked to a stop. You heard Sam say his name, voice full of menace, and Sam's scent pressed in through Dean's, warring for your attention.

"Sam, let go. Don't make me put you outside. I don't know how much longer she can take this. Let me help her. Let go." Although his voice was muffled, his tone made it very clear that he didn't want to fight but that didn't mean he wouldn't. 

Sam must have let go because Dean started walking again, his muscles tensing and flexing. Your hand slid under his jacket, seeking skin but finding only more layers. Your other hand played up into his hair as you lavished attention on the area just below his ear. The bright light of the bathroom snapped on. Dean awkwardly knelt down in the small space, setting you on the side of the tub. You immediately started pushing his jacket off his shoulders. Shrugging you off, he reached over, turned on the cold water and pushed down the drain stopper. While he was doing that, you got your legs shifted so you could slide off the side of the bathtub right onto his lap, pushing him back onto his heels as you did. One of your hands pulled his shirt up as the other slid right past his waistband and into the front of his boxers.

"Ah! No, no, no." He pulled your hand out of his pants as you rolled your hips into his. "Jesus fucking Christ! Y/N, you are not helping, sweetheart." You started to push the gas mask strap up and off his head. "Alright, knock it off!" He used his very firm voice as he stood, lifting you up with him in the process. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit, I want to take your temperature. Get undressed and get in the bath." You started pulling your shirt up but he stopped you. "Second thought, leave the top and underwear on." You pouted but started unfastening your jeans instead as Dean left the bathroom.

***

Dean pulled off the gas mask and gulped at the cool air as soon as he reached the back of the Impala. "Fuck, this thing's uncomfortable." Sam was still standing by the room door. Dean popped the trunk and grabbed the first aid kit, which was currently occupying a small canvas duffel.

"How is she?" Sam's voice was rough. Dean closed the trunk and walked around to set the kit on the hood while he prepared to put the mask back on.

"She's hot." Sam gave him a look. "Not like that!" Sam's look intensified. Dean nodded. "Well, yeah like that, but that's not what I meant. I want to take her temperature, but I think we're gonna need some ice to cool her down. I saw an ice machine at the gas station." He jerked over his shoulder with his thumb. "Go grab a couple of bags." Sam didn't move. "Go. You gotta walk it off, man, get some fresher air."

He waited until Sam walked away, then took a few more deep breaths as he rummaged through the kit until he found the thermometer. He fitted the gas mask back over his face and went back into the room. 

Although he wasn't sure what he had been expecting, maybe you semi-comatose in the tub, he sure as hell hadn't been expecting to find you with your wet tank top plastered to your breasts, leaving nothing to the imagination, and your hands shoved down the front of your panties. As hot as all that was—and he thought it was Casa Erotica levels of hot—it was the sexed-out look on your face that knocked him back a step. He stood there and just watched you for a second before turning away to give you some privacy. Maybe it would help, he thought. Although it wasn't helping him move past the lingering desire to fuck you into the nearest mattress. Instead he sat on the corner of one bed and tried not to fog up his mask when you started moaning. A few torturous minutes later, a loud thump and the sound of splashing water made him jump up.

"Y/N?" Sobbing was your only reply. He peeked around the doorframe.

"I can't, it's not helping, I can't..." He came over and knelt down next to the tub again, lukewarm water soaking the knees of his jeans from where you’d splashed it.

"Sam's gone to get some ice for you. I need to take your temperature so we can decide if you need it or not. Ok? Say AH." You opened your mouth and let him stick the sensor under your tongue.

"Dean?"

"You gotta keep your mouth shut for me."

"But, Dean, please I..."

You reached towards the thermometer and he took your hand in his to stop you from messing with it. "Come on, baby, just for a minute, ok?"

You relaxed your arm and rested it against your chest, he didn't let go of your hand. You twisted a little in the water and moaned. His free hand cupped your cheek, his thumb pressed against your lips, keeping them closed around the thermometer. You changed your grip on his other hand and slid it down your stomach, he let you. You pressed his hand to the soft skin just above your panties and the thermometer beeped. As he read the small display, brow furrowed with concern, you rubbed your hand over his and down between your legs, then back up onto his hand and back down again. He was so close to where you needed him to be.

"Dean, I need your help. Please. If you do it, it'll work, it'll help." You urged his hand downward as you tilted your hips up. He swore and put the thermometer on the side of the tub. He didn't pull his hand away.

"You're making it really hard to be any sort of gentleman here. You're delirious. This is the fever speaking, and when this is all over I don't want you to kick my ass for taking advantage."

"I've wanted you since I met you, Dean, and now I need you." You managed to get his hand pressed where you needed him. "Oh! I need you to make me come," you moaned, pressing his fingers to your clit through the thin, soaked fabric. "Please, Dean. I can't take this heat inside me, I'm burning for you, please." Although it was hard to see his face through the gas mask you could tell when he closed his eyes. You could also see them fly open as a loud knocking came from the motel room door. He pulled his hand out of your grasp and stood up, shakily.

"That's Sam with the ice." He took a deep, filtered breath and walked out of the bathroom, drying his hands on his jeans as he went.

***

"They only had 10 lb. bags, so I got four." Sam said, looking down at the bags in each hand.

Dean stepped out and pulled the door closed behind him, yanking the gas mask off and wiping sweat off his face.

"I didn't know how much we'd need."

"No, that's perfect." Dean took a deep breath. "That antidote isn't working."

"But it hasn't been that long yet. Maybe..."

"It's been almost two hours and she's just getting worse, Sam. It's not working." Dean huffed.

Sam's brow knit.

"Here, gimme those. We gotta try something, she's burning up in there." Dean stepped close and took the bags of ice from Sam. Sam's jaw clenched. Dean started to walk around Sam towards the door but was stopped by his brother's hand pushing him back.

Jaw still clenched and with that panties-in-a-twist look on his face, Sam simply said, "Mask."

"What? Oh. Shit." Dean set down the bags and pulled the gas mask back on, missing Sam's flaring nostrils. "Thanks, Sammy." He picked the bags back up as Sam stepped back and put his hand on the doorknob. Dean nodded his head for Sam to open the door. The mask narrowed his field of vision so he didn't see Sam's eyes narrow at him as he passed into the room.

"What were you two doing while I was at the gas station?" Sam's voice was quiet but Dean heard the hardness in it and turned. Sam was standing in the open doorway. Although with him in it, pulled up to his full height and glowering like he was, it was anything but open. He filled the space almost as effectively as the door.

"I was getting her in the tub and taking her temperature. You know..."

"Her scent is all over you, Dean."

"Yeah, because it's all over her."

Sam was shaking his head. "It's on your hands, your jeans, your face."

"How..."

"It's so strong, I can practically see it." Sam was breathing hard now, like he'd just gone a couple of rounds with a vamp.

"Sam, you shouldn't be in here, it's affecting you. Go wait outside."

"So you can be alone with her? No."

"No, man! The air in here is messing with you. Go out and get some fresh air, clear your head." Dean turned back towards the bathroom. Before he could take a step though, Sam had gotten around him and blocked his path. "Sam! We don't have time for this. Y/N is—"

"Dean? I need you. I can't..."

Dean started to go around his brother.

"Stay away from her, Dean!" Sam growled loudly as he shoved Dean away from your voice.

"You're not thinking straight. Now go outside." Dean said with all of the big brother authority he could muster. But Sam didn't move, not until he heard you moan and his attention shifted. "Sammy, she needs help. We need to help her." He lifted the ice a little to try to get Sam's focus back on the problem at hand.

But while he expected Sam to exercise his considerable stubborn streak, he had hoped that it would manifest as the Sam that had defeated Lucifer, the one that resisted the irresistible to save the world. What he got was another shove, this time hard enough to send him sprawling.

"Dammit! Sam!" His voice powerfully loud, too loud. The gas mask had gotten knocked part way off, exposing his mouth and nose. There was no time to react, no time to think. He was pissed at his brother for being so pigheaded and making this already hard situation ridiculously harder. Some warlock-wannabe asshole decides to slip Y/N the mother of all aphrodisiacs and now his sasquatch of a little brother is going all alpha-male possessive on him? Fuck that. He pulled the mask the rest of the way off before throwing one of the bags of ice at Sam and kicking his leg out, sending Sam crashing to the floor. No way was he going to let Sam keep him from Y/N when she needed him, wanted him.

***

You were already climbing out of the tub and reaching for a towel, drawn out of the tepid water by the sudden spike in scent coming from the other room, when they started shouting. The need inside you was an out of control fire, burning you up, and they were both there, just feet from the bathroom. Your heightened awareness of their familiar, comforting, smell was overriding whatever remained of your better judgement. You needed them. One of them or both of them, it didn’t matter.

Still dripping water, you rushed out of the bathroom when you heard Dean hit the floor, and a second later Sam toppled, too.

"Stop!"

Dean stood quickly, concern washing over his features. "Y/N..."

"No, Dean!" Sam maneuvered himself between you and his brother, blocking him as if they were playing basketball.

"Sam, get out of the way!" Dean tried to forced Sam to move.

"No, Dean! She's not yours!" Sam shoved him, but Dean was ready for it this time and he shoved right back.

"She’s not yours either!"

You'd seen this scenario play out time and again in bars across the country. Usually there was alcohol involved instead of magically ramped up hormones or pheromones or whatever was going on here, but it always seemed to be about a woman. The last thing you needed right now was the two of them fighting over you.

Sam grabbed Dean's shirt and pulled back to punch him, but Dean was already twisting his brother's wrist and moving to knock him off his feet when you pushed yourself between them. Your fear overrode your desire for the second it took them to both shift their focus to you. But then your hands were on theirs, separating them, their eyes were on you as you looked from Dean to Sam and back to Dean. Still holding onto Sam's arm, you kissed Dean.

"I need you," you said, barely more than a whisper.

Turning to Sam again, you rose up on your toes to kiss him, too.

"Sam, please." You kissed him again as you pulled Dean closer. "I need you. Don't fight, please. Help me." You ran your hand behind Sam’s neck, threading fingers into his hair as you leaned over to kiss Dean again. "Please."

There was a moment of stillness between them as they looked at each other with hardened eyes. Sam wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you toward him, away from his brother. But you weren’t going to give in. You pushed his hand down between your legs and leaned back into him as you grabbed a fistful of Dean’s shirts and drew him to you, crushing your lips against his. They resisted, held back rigidly for the briefest second before finally giving in and enveloping you.

***

An hour or so away, in a dank, deserted warehouse, Crowley turned towards a figure that had just come in from the street. “Did you take care of it?”

“I did,” Rowena replied as she stepped into the circle of light from the lone, flickering, overhead bulb.

"You're absolutely sure the lumberjack twins won't show up? I cannot have them mucking this up, not this time."

Rowena smiled. "Oh, I'm sure."

Crowley didn’t seem to hear her as he muttered, "They're like cockroaches, you think you've taken care of them but then they show up again."

"Trust me, Fergus, they've got their hands full. This time I’ve thought of everything, from alpha to omega."


End file.
